


First Blood

by kuro49



Series: golden state [3]
Category: Crisis (TV 2014), Sons of Anarchy, The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4182522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of Jax Teller’s favourites are back in his town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to the sequel that no one ever asked for but I’m going to write anyway because I don’t know when to quit it. I am posting this in hopes it will get me to finish all the porn in chapter 2??? 
> 
> idek if anyone is even still interested in this but hector lorca is the Clifton Collins Jr. gueststar character he did on Blacklist in s01e04: the Stewmaker :'D

It’s a phone call that comes first before he finds himself in Charming once more.

There is no caller ID but there is the drawl of that voice in his ear as soon as he hits answer, and really, that is indication enough for Special Agent Donald Ressler.

“Missed me, Donny-boy?”

And there is no doubt that there is only one man capable of ruining even a nickname he’s always been fond of. The downturn of his mouth is almost instinctual, but so is the muscle memory of what happened the last time he met with Jax Teller.

“Do I get to say no?”

“I wouldn’t let you. And trust me, you wouldn’t want to miss this.”

He is bad news, in more ways than those two words can imply.

“What do you want, Teller?”

“I want you,” the voice on the other end says. To Donald, Jax Teller is like the graze across his temple with the end of his department-issued gun in another man’s hands. “And your badge here in Charming.”

For the terrible parts that Donald isn’t about to admit to himself let alone anyone else, there is just thrill.

 

It’s sunny, here in California.

The heat makes wearing a suit uncomfortable, but he supposes leather isn’t going to be much better off when he arrives in Charming once more.

He has half a mind as to why he is here, and it has nothing to do with what Jax Teller always promises he will find one of these days. He might have been compared to a monkey in a suit too many times for him to care but Donald Ressler is not as stupid as to imagine he would run into Raymond Reddington here. Out of every other place he’s been digging through for the past six months, always two, three, four steps behind him.

The truth is, even if he’s got connections, and where doesn’t Reddington have connections, a man like that is not about to be caught dead in a town like this, next to small time gangsters like Jax's boys in SAMCRO.

He has half a mind as to why he is here, but he is not about to give anyone the satisfaction as to admitting the reason why, least of all to someone like Jax Teller.

“Agent Ressler.”

The grin is familiar, and the flash of teeth is too.

Donald hates that it is.

 

“I don’t get it.”

It’s an understatement that Jax likes the sight of the FBI agent in his club, sitting at the bar with a beer dripping condensation across the wood. Jax doesn’t tell the agent to drink up if only because he enjoys the sight of him sitting with his spine uncomfortably straight as he decides between glaring at the offered drink or the man making that offer alone.

“I want his drugs out of Charming.”

And really, it’s as simple as that.

Jax Teller doesn’t want another war, least of all with the Mayans.

“It’s a lucrative business, and last time I checked, your club aren’t made of saints.”

Jax gives him a feral grin from the other side of the bar. He doesn’t deny any of what Agent Ressler points out. But the fact is, he’s not afraid of another war if it comes to that, if it comes to keeping his town safe.

“We run guns.” Jax doesn’t try to hide the fact that it is personal, he doesn’t say it outright but he makes it clear enough, his son was born 10 weeks premature thanks to shit like this running through his mother’s veins. “Drugs like his, they have no place being in Charming.”

“The DEA will be more than happy to take your case, Jax.”

“The DEA aren’t you, Donald, and I like you.” He takes his guest’s drink from in front of him and tosses back enough, bares his throat and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle. “Come meet Mr. Lorca before you decide you don’t want to throw him behind bars.”

 

When Hector Lorca walks in, Jax Teller barks out a laugh loud enough to be heard through the thin walls of the club. And Donald doesn’t understand until he sees just who it is that Jax sees, and who Jax sees is a face that is all too familiar. Well, maybe except that the man is more dressed than the last time Donald has seen him. But then again, it’s not hard to be wearing something more than nothing or a towel wrapped in haste around the waist.

In other words, Ressler doesn’t choke at the sight of the ex-special forces soldier walking in half a step to a man he assumes to be Hector Lorca.

“Nice to see you back at the club, Koz.”

Jax gives a wave from where he’s settled himself comfortably on a small sofa.

Hector Lorca is an interesting man, with his hair slicked back, at a length that is not quite long enough to be pulled into a ponytail but just long enough to have wisps of it resting against his shirt collar. Donald doesn’t know what to expect.

It almost isn’t this.

When Hector Lorca turns his head, raising an eyebrow at the man he’s brought along for a chat with the local club in charge. His demeanour doesn’t change.

But neither does Koz’s.

“I’m a mercenary for hire, Lorca. The criminal world isn’t as big as you’d like.”

“He gets around.” Jax adds, motioning at the rest of his guests to have a seat in the folding chairs set across the low table in the middle. It is only then that he lets his mouth twist into a wide grin. “Remember _Manila_?”

“Not really.” Koz admits, and he doesn’t roll his eyes if only because he’s on a job.

“I thought we had fun.” With the way Jax says the word _we_ , accompanied by the turn of his head towards him, Ressler comes to a revelation.

“Housekeeping would say otherwise, kid.”

And Koz’s words only confirm just that.

(If Jax has taken Donald through the front entrance of that motel instead of the back staircase, he’d have seen the name of it. With it’s faded wallpaper and water stains, the loud air conditioning that covers every noise. Just outside, there is the neon pink sign that doesn’t quite light up in the bright Cali sun, missing the _a_ but still spelling _Manila_ _Motel_ in the heart of Charming.)

Donald doesn’t let the flush of realization go all the way to the tips of his ears.

 

“Here’s the thing, I don’t need you or your club’s approval.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Jax is leaning back in his seat, the reflection of calm. 

“One chance, Teller. And make it a good one.”

Jax lifts a hand, reaching over, and before Ressler can stop him, his suit jacket is pulled aside, brandishing his FBI badge beneath the florescent lights of the backroom in the club.

“Good enough for you, Lorca?”

Hector lets out a low laugh, and Ressler thinks he might be the only one in this room with any sense of self-preservation. Just the way the man’s shoulders ease has alarms going off in his head.

“Take your drugs elsewhere.” Jax tells him, not giving an inch.

“So, you’ve got the FBI in your pocket.” Lorca smiles, slow and it leaves Ressler wishing that he could reach for his gun, if only so he doesn’t feel like he is easy picking. Standing in a room with men that he doesn’t have to know all that well for him to put together a thing or two, that they are men capable of doing many things, none of which are good. “We both know I’m not about to leave with nothing in mine.”

If these turns out to be Hector Lorca’s famous last words, Donald doesn’t think he’ll be surprised, not with the way Jax smiles with the words, “Fair enough.”

 

For a small time gangster like Jax Teller, he’s the biggest fish in this small town.

Charming’s his and what he offers Hector Lorca, the man takes.

He gives him protection the Mayans cannot ensure. And as long as there’s no distribution of his drugs in the town, Jax Teller gives him a place for storage by the docks. It’s a pact that makes expansion into the rest of good ol’sunny California that much easier for Lorca. They don’t need to shake on it, it’s the promise of hell that keeps them both from turning back on their words.

Donald’s sure of that, at the very least.

Even though he can’t be sure of what’s to come next.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I TAKE BACK THAT PORN WITH PLOT TAG.
> 
> At this point, i don’t actually know if this is any good anymore, just that the shame was so real when i finally realized how far i’ve sunk into this crossover universe i've carved for myself.

It starts with him, and on a whim, like it always does.

It starts with Jax reaching out, curling his hand into a fist around the end of the tie of his favourite FBI agent. His proper navy one, the one Donald almost actually likes knotted at his throat. And there is no warning, like there ever is any with him. Jax hates surprises until he is the one springing them on everyone else.

When he drags him down, he catches him by the mouth.

He makes it into a show of dominance and he makes it into a good one. In a room full of alpha males all making a declaration of their own, it’s almost childish but it does make the point he wants it to.

Ressler isn’t caught off guard, well, not so much that he bites down on the tongue that pushes between his lips. No, Donald decides to be the one to sink his teeth down on the swell of Jax’s bottom lip to get that groan dragging out long and low. If he is to be pulled in between them, Donald Ressler will be the one to draw the first blood.

That much is non-negotiable.

“You’re getting good at this, Donny-boy.” He pulls back a fraction, loving that nickname as it falls from between his lips. Loving the terms that go unsaid with the way Donald bites back into the kiss.

“That’s Special Agent Ressler to you, Teller.”

It is Hector Lorca that laughs. And Koz that has his mouth curving into something that isn’t a frown, and for a man like that, it could very well be a smile that could almost pass off as a fond, fond thing for them.

“How about me, _Agent_?” Lorca asks, sitting forward, widening the spread of his thighs to lean towards the display of the two of them. The way he rests his elbows on his knees, like he could very well own this room.

Jax isn’t about to give that up. How his Donny-boy answers though, Jax has a feeling he has a soft spot for him just as he does for him.

“It’s not Donald, that’s for sure.”

 

He’s got his suit jacket draped across the armrest of the chair, his piece on the table but the holster still stretched across his back. His belt weighs his pants down to his ankles and his knees sink into the worn, wrecked leather of the small sofa.

Donald’s got Jax’s fingers working inside of him, his thumb pressing insistently on his perineum, lube slicking up every blunt push. He tries not to be so loud, with each pant being dragged out from between his mouth a ragged, soft thing.

“It’s really been too long, Agent.”

That last word is sighed into his skin, accompanied by the sound of foil ripping.

Ressler doesn’t need to turn his head to see the sight of Jax rolling on the condom or the display he makes it out to be for the other two occupants of the room. He just hones in on the way Jax slides his hand down the small of his back, a sweeping motion that ends at the swell of his ass, one that has Donald tilting his hip to lean into the touch.

How he reacts is not unexpected but it manages to surprise himself every time.

It is probably the step Koz takes towards him but Donald glances up, not to catch the same stoic expression over his face but the tent in his pants and the way Koz reaches out for his jaw.

Donald doesn’t try to remember _Manila_ in details, but every muscle in his body does.

The calluses on those fingers tell the same story the agent in Donald Ressler has no wish knowing, so he just tilts his head for him. Opening wide at the drag of the zipper all the way down to the base. He gets Koz wet with his mouth alone while Jax works him open with the shallowest thrusts. Jax doesn’t sink into him like he wishes he would, just as Jax doesn’t push him for the noises he wants him to make, all guttural and deep.

Jax lets him figure it out for himself, and in reply, Donald just angles his hips to meet each thrust, drawing it out like neither wants.

When Teller finally sinks into him, giving in to him, Donald almost forgets how to work his mouth around Koz.

What brings him back is the fist in his hair, an easy grip that tightens just a fraction.

Donald cannot imagine how he must look when he applies the barest of pressures to the underside before taking Koz in full again. With his hair mused up, and his hips stuttering to each push that is sending him closer and closer. He does not want to think how he must sound, with the noises that are literally getting fucked out of him.

He doesn’t glance up at the man from beneath his lashes, just sinks down to the same rhythm Jax sets from behind him.

He doesn’t see how his blond hair is ginger in the light of the room or the taut bow his spine pulls into when his mouth is stretched all the way around him. He cannot imagine how good he looks so filled to the brim at both ends. What he can only register is the hand in his hair and the hand at his hips.

 

Years before Donald Ressler is down on his knees, knife pressed against the jugular of his throat, he meets the Hector Lorca before the man ever even made it on Elizabeth Keen’s radar.

And Hector Lorca only believes in that lie because he remembers Donald Ressler on his knees all those years back. He’s seen him too comfortable with criminals like Jax Teller and Koz, his mouth stretched wide, his chin wet with spit and precum. It takes very little to make that jump between the past and the same agent standing next to Red.

Lorca doesn’t need to like Red to take a liking to Agent Ressler.

He lets him up, he lets him live.

Hector Lorca only wishes he has a little more time to spend with the agent before he has to leave the country.

But that comes much later. Here, Hector stands up to hook a finger into his bodyguard’s belt hoop, pulls him in by an inch and sinks him back against the hard outline of his cock still in his pants. “Let me get you off, Koz.”

“…Then you’ve got to do better than him,” Koz tells him as he pulls free, pointedly drags his gaze down to the Agent who still has his mouth opened wide and red, no longer panting for it but still looking so eager.

Hector can’t help but reach out to touch a finger to those lips, slips two into that warm, wet heat and pushes down on the tongue a little deeper.

“Easy, Agent Ressler.” He tells him, and through the half lidded gaze the FBI sends him from between the other two, Hector can imagine there might just be something easy about this Agent Donald Ressler. Not that he is complaining at all when he makes such a pretty sight before him.

He turns his head back towards his gun-for-hire, smiles in that way that unnerves most. “I don’t like it when people doubt me.”

“You should get used to it until you can prove otherwise, boss.”

The way Koz places the stress on that last word, oh, it doesn’t escape Hector Lorca one bit. He just makes sure Jax is looking when he curls a hand against the back of his hired man’s neck, pulling him down that slight inch of height difference so he can kiss him thoroughly.

Because Hector is hardly showing off when Jax is making noises like he could be the leading man.

 

Underneath the suit jackets and the dress shirts that he likes to leave the top three buttons undone, Hector is not nearly as heavy as he should be. It is almost too easy for Koz to lift him up so he can pin him against the wall.

He has him in a state that matches Agent Ressler. With his clothes undone and his neck littered in bitten kisses, only Hector’s hair is still in that infuriatingly low ponytail that he likes to pull it into.

Koz is willing to admit that he is not above wrecking that too.

A contract might be a very important thing to a man like him because he believes in fulfilling his end just as he believes in attribution to anyone who breaks that. But the one that he has with Hector Lorca doesn’t say a thing about fucking the man, and Koz has never been all that keen on not sleeping with the boss (or bosses).

So, when he fucks into him, he faces him, watches the shift in his facial expression as he pushes inside of him completely.

Hector doesn’t give him any tell tale sign, just lets out a groan that could mean anything when he reaches up to snag a hand in the dark blue Henley. It’s a shirt that fits in a way his boss appreciates, also one that has the man wishing he could go without right this moment. Koz is not oblivious to the glances from all the days before he asks that he come to Charming with him. He just goes with the motion when Hector tugs, lets him pull his shirt over his head.

The appreciative noise Hector lets out is almost flattering.

Koz hardly needs to turn his head to feel their eyes on him, and like the show they’ve put on for them, he figures it’s about time to return the favour. Hector works with him, sinking down as he thrusts up into the tight heat of his body. His legs wrap around his waist like his arms do to his neck. The first drag of his blunt nails up his back hardly makes him wince, it is the ones that follow that do.

He doesn’t quite draw blood but he does leave lines that fade from white to pink to red.

Koz knows his strength in a way many men do not, he might not be gentle but he is always careful. He doesn’t catch both of Hector’s wrists in a hand like he wants to but the warning is there when he catches his bottom lip between his teeth instead, kisses him in a way that leaves them both a little worse for wear.

The palm that drags up to touch the back of his neck is indication enough.

The tilt of Hector’s mouth to his own for another kiss is almost too much. In place of words, Koz just returns it with the wrap of a hand between them to bring Hector off. He doesn’t miss the noises from behind him when Jax does the same for Agent Ressler. They don't come quite at the same time but it's close in a room reeking of sex.

The only sounds left are what they are still willing to give up.

 

XXX Kuro


End file.
